


Tales Reversed

by RadioactiveDeLorean



Series: Stangst drabbles [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood, Hurt No Comfort, Stangst, like MAJOR stangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioactiveDeLorean/pseuds/RadioactiveDeLorean
Summary: Role Reversal AU: Stan is offered a place in a boxing program. On his way to support his brother at the match, Ford runs into Crampelter, forcing Stan to abandon the match to save his brother.





	Tales Reversed

Ford stumbled backward, nearly falling over from the force of the blow. He barely had time to recover before Crampelter lifted a leg and kicked him in the stomach. Ford was knocked to the ground. He tried to get up, only to have Crampelter put a foot on his chest, pinning him to the floor. Ford grabbed his ankle and tried to pull the older teen off him. Crampelter only increased the pressure on Ford’s chest. It was getting harder to breathe. Damnit, he was so close! His brother was just inside the building, preparing for his boxing match. He was so close to making it. Crampelter must have worked out that Ford would come along to support his brother and lay in wait for him to show up. He’d already been thoroughly beaten. His glasses were bent slightly. He had a black eye and numerous other bruises on his face. His whole body ached from punches, kicks and blows that were surely going to leave bruises. 

 

Ford shoved and hit Crampelter’s leg pathetically. “J-just leave me alone! I never did anything wrong!” He gasped, his chest heaving with dry coughs. 

 

Crampelter leaned down so his face was inches away from Ford’s. “You did do something wrong. You were born. A freak like you should have never been conceived. I feel sorry for your brother having to waste his time protecting a weak little freak like you.”

 

Ford fought to hold back the tears burning at the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t cry in front of Crampelter. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let these guys see that they got to him. Despite his struggles, tears leaked from the corner of his eyes and Ford found himself restraining sobs. 

 

One of Crampelter’s friends, Alex, sneered at Ford. “Aww look, the little six-fingered wimp is crying. What’s that? You miss your twin? Wish he was here to protect your sorry little ass?”

 

Ford gritted his teeth and struggled again. He managed to knock Crampelter over onto the ground and scramble to his feet. He tried to make a run for it, only to be yanked back by Crampelter’s other friend, Justin. Ford was slammed against the brick wall of the building. His head was bashed against the bricks. His vision swam and he could feel something warm and wet dripping down the back of his neck. 

 

Ford let out a sharp cry as Crampelter grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him round, forcing his chest up against the wall. The older teen twisted Ford’s arms up behind his back. Ford struggled against the firm grip in vain. “Let me go!”

 

“Hey!” Relief flooded Ford’s system as he heard his brother’s voice. He managed to turn his head around to see Stanley marching over to them. He was wearing his shorts and tank top, ready for the match. Ford felt a pang of guilt as he realised Stan was probably missing it. “Leave him alone!”

 

Crampelter sneered at him. “Oh yea? Who’s gonna make me? Yo- ooph!” His words were cut short as Stan slammed a fist into his side, knocking him sideways away from Ford. 

 

Ford scrambled to his feet. His hands were shaking as he watched his brother singlehandedly take on the three other boys. He noticed Justin going to wrap his arms around Stan’s throat. Ford threw himself at Justin and wrapped his arms around the older boy’s shoulders, pulling him away from his brother. Justin threw his elbow back, hitting Ford square in the ribs. Ford fell off him with a strangled gasp, landing roughly on the pavement. He sat up just in time to see Stan knock Crampelter out cold with a hard punch to the jaw. The two others quickly hauled the unconscious Crampelter up and darted off with him.

 

Stan went over to Ford and pulled him to his feet. Ford was sporting a black eye and a bloody lip, along with possible broken ribs and multiple bruises. “Thanks,” Ford grinned.

 

“Any time, bro,” Stan grinned back at him.

 

“Ahem.” The sound of someone clearing their throat behind them made both twins turn around. Standing at the door to the school gym were the college representatives - the ones who had come to see Stan’s boxing.

 

“Sorry about that,” Stan scratched the back of his neck, blood dripping from his nose onto his shirt. “They were picking on my brother so I-”

 

“Decided to mercilessly attack them?” The leader, a tall, muscular man with dark skin and a bald head did not seem impressed at all. “As much as we admire your skill, your attitude towards fighting is far from admirable. Boxing is about respect and consideration for your opponent, not just raw fighting skills. I’m sorry, but we cannot offer you a place at our college with an attitude like that.”

 

Stan frowned. “But didn’t you see what those guys were doing to my brother?! They were beating him up first! I had to step in!”

 

“Had you simply disarmed the situation in a calm, controlled manner, maybe we would have reconsidered. But after a display like that, I’m afraid we can’t allow a dangerous thug to compete in our program.” With that, the representatives walked back through the gym and disappeared.

 

Ford swallowed hard. “Stan, I’m sorry-”

 

“This is your fault.” Stan’s voice was quiet and laced with venom.

 

Ford instantly recoiled. “Stan, y-you saw what Crampelter was doing. If you hadn't come outside-”

 

“I would have won that match and gotten into that program!” Stan snapped. He whirled round, fixing his twin with a glare. “But thanks to you, I lost my only chance at actually  _ achieving anything!” _

 

“Stan it wasn’t my fault!” Ford protested, guilt seeping into his stomach. “You saw! It was Crampelter! He attacked me!”

 

“If you were actually able to stand up for yourself rather than relying on me all the time, I wouldn’t have had to come and save your sorry ass!  _ Again,  _ I might add! All I’ve ever done for you is protect you and you couldn’t bear the thought of me doing anything on my own!”

 

Ford flinched, tears burning behind his eyes. “Stan, listen to me-”

 

“NO!” Stan shouted. “I’m done listening to your sorry excuses. If you’d actually  _ tried  _ during those boxing lessons instead of reading your stupid books, maybe you could have actually been able to defend  _ yourself  _ for once!”

 

Ford took a step back, all breath stolen from his lungs. The tears that had been threatening to spill slowly slid down his cheeks.

 

Stan scoffed. “Don’t be so pathetic, Stanford. I’m going home. There’s no point in hanging around here anymore.”

 

With that, Stan turned on his heel and headed into the gym changing rooms to grab his bag. He didn’t wait for Ford as he stormed out of the building and back home. Ford followed behind him slowly, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. Stan was right. He  _ was  _ too pathetic to look after himself.

 

When they got home, Stan stormed straight into the living room and tossed his bag onto the floor by the couch. Filbrick looked up from his newspaper. “So, did you win the match?”

 

No,” Stan grunted. “Ford was getting beaten up outside and I had to leave to go defend him. They told me they didn’t want a “thug” in their program and told me to get lost.”

 

“What?!” Filbrick was on his feet in an instant. Stan flinched, only this time his father’s anger wasn’t directed at him, but his twin. He stormed over, grabbing Ford by the collar of his polo shirt. “You did  _ what?!” _

 

Ford tried to step back, but his father’s grip on his collar stopped him from going anywhere. “I-it wasn’t my fault! Crampelter and his friends showed up and they w-were picking on me and-”

 

“Your brother had to miss the most important event of his life to save your weak ass?!” Filbrick snapped.

 

Ford was trembling, a lump forming in his throat which prevented him from producing coherent sentences. “B-but I-I-I-”

 

“You were too weak to defend yourself for once in your sorry life?!” Filbrick grabbed Ford’s upper arm and dragged him back towards the door. “Your brother could have made  _ millions  _ with a successful boxing career and you ruined it! You’ve lost this family MILLIONS of dollars!”

 

Ford struggled weakly against his father’s grip. He looked pleadingly over at his brother. “Stan! C’mon, you know this wasn’t my fault!”

 

Stan didn’t say anything. He shot Ford a cold glare and crossed his arms, turning his back to him. Ford felt his stomach drop.

 

Filbrick wrenched the door open and shoved Ford outside. Ford stumbled, landing on his backside on the pavement. The impact aggravated his already throbbing ribs and he let out a yelp. A split second later, a large, full duffel bag was thrown at him. The bag hit Ford in the stomach, almost knocking him over completely. He looked up at the doorway to see his father glaring at him.

 

“Honey?” Ford heard his mother call. “What’s going on?” 

 

“Our weakling son just cost this family potential millions.” Filbrick growled, not taking his eyes off Ford. He pointed a finger at the teen sat on the ground. “You’ve always been weak. If you didn’t have your brains you’d have  _ nothing.  _ Don’t bother coming back here until you make up for all the money you lost us!”

 

With that, Filbrick stepped back inside and slammed the door. Ford flinched. He stumbled to his feet, one hand gripping his ribs with the other holding the handles of the duffel bag. He saw Stanley watching him through the living room window. Ford swallowed. “S-Stanley…?”

 

Stan simply glared at his twin and pulled the curtains closed. Ford felt his heart skip a beat. Tears welled up behind his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. Failing to hold back a sob, he gripped the duffel bag firmly and ran off up the road, ignoring the way his ribs screamed in protest. He kept running until his legs burned and he could breathe no longer. He collapsed on his knees in an alleyway, the bag falling to the ground beside him. He bent over, covering his face with his hands, more tears running down his face.

 

“I-I’m sorry, Stanley,” he sobbed. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely a ficlet based off a prompt I received on [Tumblr](https://radioactivedelorean.tumblr.com). I asked for some Stangst writing prompts and I received many beautiful ones.


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